Turning Tides
by Raven's Wing
Summary: He'd heard it said that not all treasure is silver and gold, but Flynn Rider, notorious pirate captain, was about to find out just how true that was. [Pirate A/U, y'all. Get into it.]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to the Tangled universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to this universe. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

**A/N: **Because, you know, what I really need to do with my life is start ANOTHER multi-chapter fanfiction. Really. Truly. Really. Enjoy it. This is a pirate A/U. If that isn't for you - abandon ship. Ha. Sorry (not sorry).

* * *

_Prologue_

_True North_ burned.

Flames spat out black smoke as their tongues ate the sea weathered wood. Rigging, charred and useless, crashed over the backs of dead men fallen on the deck. The last few survivors of _True North's_ crew battled their opponents on the attacking ship. Their ship was too far away to re-board, the wooden cross planks fell away in the distance and debris, but they all knew that even if _True North_ had been within reach there was no use returning to her. She was sinking. So the men fought and struggled, desperate to succeed though failure was inevitable, but it was either death now with honor or death by the noose as a pirate when they reached Corona.

Every man on that crew died fighting that day.

Every man but one.

Flynn Rider stood at the helm of his burning ship, resigned to his fate as Captain to ride _True North_ to her watery grave. He longed for the fight a vessel away, but responsibility held him. This ship was his family. He couldn't, wouldn't, let her go down alone.

A cannon fired, unexpected at this point, and_ True North's_ main-mast split with a resonant crack. The huge beam tipped, fell, and collided with the fore-mast. The flaming sails waved in the air like clutching fingers trying to find a way to hold on, to stop the momentum of the inevitable, but both lengths of timber crashed into the bow that held them so proudly. The ship shook and lurched. The impact thrust the weight of the vessel to the bow as the hull guzzled water through her new wounds.

Flynn stumbled at the shift beneath his boots. Flames surged around him even as the ocean poured her depths into the belly of his boat. His eyes and lungs burned from the smoke and ash. His body ached from the strain of battle.

Somewhere in his mind, through the chaos and the terror, he latched onto one singular thought: _This was it. _

After all this time out-running, out-gunning, and out-smarting Corona's navy - this was it. This was the end. He lost.

He gripped the helm for support as the ship tilted forward with a groan. It was going fast, faster than he knew a ship could sink, but he didn't have time to panic. Two more cannonballs tore through the air. One pummeled mid-ship right above the waterline and the other surged into quarterdeck behind him. Shrapnel and splintered wood shredded the air. The scream of wood breaking apart pierced his ears. The ship pitched forward as she split apart and Flynn wasn't on deck anymore. The explosions and the fallout from them jettisoned him from his place in the wheelhouse, into the air like a paper doll, and out into the open sea.

He didn't remember hitting the water. He only remembered the sweeping cold, dark, quiet of submersion, like he had stepped into a different world, like he was already dead. He wished he was like he had never wished for anything before.

In the end his instinct to breathe won over his wish for death. He found his way up above the choppy water, head bursting into the light, sound, and heat of the surface. The salt of the water stuck to his mouth, his tongue, his skin, burning the raw places burned by fire and worn from use. The thrust from the explosions threw him between the two ships, closer to the one that wasn't reduced now sinking mess of smoking splinters.

He tread water. What else could he do? There was no ship left to go down with, no final stand, no idea which way land was (and if he was honest, no chance of swimming to it), nothing. He had nothing and now he was cold for reasons that had nothing to do with the water. _**This**_ _was it_.

He heard the lifeboat hit the water and he knew what came next. Corona wanted justice, and they would have it now. They wouldn't just leave him to drown or be eaten by sharks when they could have the satisfaction of him hanging. He had nowhere to go, no place to hide. He tried to duck under the currents, to hide from searching hands, but to no avail. The vast ocean that hid him for so long gave him up without a qualm.

The last thing he saw as a free man was a seagull flying overhead screaming as if to announce to the world that Captain Flynn Rider, most feared pirate in the world, was captured.

* * *

**A/N: **Prologue, y'all. It gets longer. Get excited, cause this is going to be fun. Wanna keep up on coming updates? Check the fanfiction twitter: **ravenswrite**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to the Tangled universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to this universe. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

**A/N: **This fiction is my attempt at the hero's journey. Flynn is the (kind of anti)hero. I promise Rapunzel comes in soon, just not immediately. This is a very Flynn-centric fiction. So for my readers that are much more used to my steamy Flynn/Eugene and Rapunzel one-shots, don't give up hope. There will be steam. Just not for awhile. I have to give you incentive to stick around, don't I?

* * *

Time lost meaning in the dark, so Flynn couldn't tell how long he'd been kept in his cell. It was just dark stretches of solitude, punctuated by stale food and sleep, and he wasn't sure if he was dead or alive. He lived on fresh air and open spaces - so this was worse than death, worse than hell. That is why when they finally came to take him, he didn't fight, didn't run. He just went. No noose could be worse than that cage.

Flickering candles lined walls of damp stone. The armor of his guards glinted as rats scurried in their shadows. Two men held his bound arms, and he was flanked in the front and back by four more. It was clear his reputation preceded him. He'd escaped once under the militant watch of four guards, so now they more than doubled that number. Maybe the Corona judicial system wasn't as clueless as he thought.

Flynn assumed he was on the fast track to the gallows when they pulled him from his windowless cell, but he knew the way to the courtyard where men like him hung for their crimes. He paid attention to the twists and turns when they brought him in, just in case the opportunity for escape presented itself, and they were not going that way.

Where were they going if not to his death? It didn't make any sense. He had nothing to offer them as far as information went. He was no spy, no war lord, no keeper of any great secret. He had a fair stash of treasure squirreled away, but no one knew that, and it wasn't like Corona was hurting for money. No, he couldn't think of any reason why he would be good to them as anything else but dead. So where were they taking him?

Never would he have guessed what awaited him when they made it to their final destination.

It was a room sequestered by a door the size and weight of which Flynn had never seen and it was clear that it was designed as much for keeping things out as it was for keeping things in. The room was dimmer than the hall had been with just one lamp on a heavy wood table. The effect gave Flynn no gauge for the width or depth of the room. Everything outside of the warm glow of the lamp was shrouded with darkness and that made Flynn anxious. Not knowing your surroundings meant less chance of escaping them.

Escape became even less likely when the two guards that held his arms forced him into a wooden chair. Many hands cinched leather ties around Flynn's chest, thighs, ankles, shoulders, and wrists until he winced. He could barely wiggle in his seat when they were through. He didn't like where this is going. Anything that had him tied to a chair and surrounded by half-witted men in shiny suits seemed like a one way ticket to nowhere he wanted to be.

The darkness across from him stirred and spat out a shadow. The cloaked figure, billowy and imposing wafted from the unknown space behind it like the darkness itself birthed it. Flynn had never seen anything creepier.

The figure sat in a chair opposite Flynn in a hooded cloak, concealing its face from him. All Flynn could make out under the fabric was a chin covered with a speckled gray beard. The figure rested old, but soft, hands on the table in front of him. There were no rings on his fingers, but Flynn could see where the sun marked bands that normally were there. In the darkness behind the figure, at least five more guards glinted. There could be more, but it was impossible to tell in the dim light.

Nope. Flynn didn't like this one bit.

"Wow." Flynn broke the silence first because he could feel it twitch under his skin. "All this individual treatment for me? You sure do know how to make a boy feel special." He tried to keep it light, keep it casual, but the atmosphere in the room sucked all the levity out of his voice.

"Quiet you little -" One of his guards snapped, but the man at the table raised his hand in silence. The guard quieted without even finishing his threat. Now _that_ was power. Whoever this joker was had some serious pull.

"Flynn Rider." The man across the table spoke.

"Yours truly." This guy knew his name? That hardly seemed fair.

"I am certain you are aware of the gravity of your situation."

"I was doing a pretty good job of ignoring it, but you all make it pretty difficult with your theatrics." Flynn tried to shrug, but his restraints made it impossible.

"Your acts of piracy and violence against Corona are despicable. The crimes you committed against people and property are appalling."

Flynn bristled at the school child retribution. Yeah. He was a bad guy. They would list off every crime they knew of, and there were some good ones, when they lynched him. So what was the point of this? They were going to give him a good scolding and _then_ hang him? Make sure he felt really bad about everything just in time to die? That seemed dumb, even by Corona standards.

"It is all in the job description: mayhem, murder, and general debauchery. Still not really sure why I am here. Isn't there a rope you'd rather see me hanging by?" Flynn said not because he was in any particular hurry to hang, but because he had very low tolerance for people talking to him like he was stupid.

The figure sighed. This clearly wasn't going the way he expected either. Then he said: "I am here to discuss the terms of your pardon."

Flynn blinked.

"You what?"

"Certain - circumstances - have shown that it may be potentially – advantageous to grant you a full pardon from your crimes."

Flynn looked around the room in disbelief, trying to find the joke, the glimmer of deception in one of the guards' faces. He found none of that. A full pardon? Not only was it unheard of – it was unthinkable. He'd made a living tormenting the merchants of Corona, robbing them blind and burning their ships, and now they just wanted to let him go? Yeah, right.

"Right. Okay. Very funny. Ha, ha." Flynn exaggerated the laugh as much as he could while bound to a chair. "You had me for a second there. I almost believed you. Good joke."

"This is not a joke."

"Uh huh. And I am the king of Corona."

The room flooded with a rush of silence when he said that. The guards shifted in an uneasy murmur of clinking armor. Flynn felt his insides squirm with the intuition that he is missed something. What made everyone so uncomfortable?

"No. You're not." The figure agreed, and grasped the edges of his hood. "I am." With that he threw back the cowl to show his face.

The air caught in Flynn's throat.

He'd never seen the man up close and personal before, but he was on the coins he'd stolen and on the murals on every wall of this damn city. He would know that face, heavy eyebrows, square jaw, sad eyes, anywhere. It was the king of Corona. He, Flynn Rider, was an ass to the king of Corona. He wasn't sure if he should be proud or not.

"That is one hell of a punchline." Flynn laughed forcibly and a hand whacked the side of his head.

"Show some respect, you." A guard growled, but the king held up a hand to desist.

Flynn rolled his head around once, twice, trying to work out the loose parts clattering around in his skull. That bastard was lucky he was tied up or else... The king was talking again. It took Flynn a second to realize and tune back in.

"... so I am afraid the matter is rather grim, Mr. Rider."

"Captain. Captain Rider." Flynn said without pause. "You burned my ship, but I am still a captain."

The line of the king's mouth tightened, and Flynn braced for another jarring smack to the head, but it didn't come. Flynn didn't understand what was happening here, but as long as it meant that the king's men had to keep their meat-hook hands off of him, he would entertain whatever came along. The way Flynn saw it was he was already a dead man, so sitting here for a few minutes couldn't make it that much worse. Could it?

"Your knowledge of the sea is the exact reason I called you here today." The king said. "I have a mission for you."

Flynn didn't like the sound of that word. _Mission_. It sounded official. It sounded like rules and limitations. He didn't like those things, but he also did not like not getting hit so hard he saw stars, so he decided to play nice for the time being.

"What kind of mission?" Flynn asked, and tried to not make a face when he said the word 'mission'.

"I need you to find the fountain of youth, retrieve water from it, and bring it back here with as much speed as you are able."

Flynn waited five solid seconds for the king to follow up with something else, to clarify or retract, but he didn't.

"Wait - what?" Surely Flynn misunderstood.

"I need you to find the fountain of -"

"No. No. I heard you." Flynn cut off the king because this wasn't entertaining anymore. This was just crazy. "The fountain of youth. Right. Got it."

"So you've heard of it."

"Yeah, but I've also heard of pigs flying - doesn't mean they do."

Of course Flynn had heard of it all right. He'd heard countless telling and retelling of stories of the fabled place, but that is all they were. Stories, tall tales, things drunk sailors made up to pass the time on long voyages. There was no real fountain, no actual spring of life, just like there were no mermaids. It was simple. The king had to understand that, right?

Wrong.

The king's temple twitched with irritation. It was clear he wasn't used to being spoken to like this.

"We have a map."

"You wouldn't be the first." Flynn said. "There's been maps to the fountain as long as there have been ships to sail there."

"I'll show you."

The king reached inside his voluminous robe and pulled out a dark leather scroll. Its weathered and beaten exterior spoke of time and travel. The king unfurled the scroll onto the table, turned it in Flynn's direction, and shoved it towards the pirate king. In the dim light Flynn could make out markings and coordinates. He saw the detailed outline of an island he didn't recognize with navigational instructions scrawled on the margins. There were notes of rivers and mountains, forests and a cove, and a conspicuous X drawn near the center of the isle. At least whoever made the fake took the time to make it look legitimate. It was, by far, the best forge he'd seen, but it was a forge nonetheless since there was no possible way it could be real.

"I hope you didn't pay too much for this." Flynn said. "You're looking at nothing more than a good wall hanging."

"I have sent three of my best crews and ships to this island in the past year. None have returned."

"Well you've got the map here, so that may be the problem." Flynn sass was instant, but he didn't regret it. Did this man really believe that this place existed?

"Corona's three lead cartographers transcribed the map to another copy for each voyage. The men had maps."

"So some of your minions wised up and went rogue. Men of the sea are the freedom loving sort. No big mystery there."

"That is not the case. These men were the finest sailors and countrymen a navy could ask for. Their loyalty was unparalleled. They would complete a mission or -" The king stopped mid-sentence but Flynn knew the words he didn't say: _or die trying_.

Flynn didn't like where this was going.

"So what you're saying is you want me to go on a ship to some unknown island where you assume that everyone else you have sent there has died a terrible death. Then I have to search out some magical water that doesn't exist, bring it back to you, and then you wave your magic wand and all the terrible nasty things I have done get erased and I am a free man."

The king looked less than pleased at Flynn's breakdown of his role in this situation. "If you want to put it like that, then, yes."

Now Flynn was an adventurous man. He'd done plenty of crazy things in his life and this wouldn't be the craziest. His life was already forfeit at this point. He had nothing to lose by agreeing to go on this fool's errand, but the promise of opportunity dawned on him. There was no way the king would come to him unless he had run out of options. The fact that he was asking him to do this told him that there was a deal to be made here. If he was going to do this - why settle for something as basic as freedom?

"I think I'll pass, _sire._ I am not one for looking for things that don't exist. So if it is all the same to you, I'd rather swing now."

The expression on the king's face told him that it was very far from all the same to him.

"You fail to recognize that this is not a choice." The king said. His voice ground out each syllable.

"You can stick me on a boat, but you can't make me sail." Flynn said. "Everything is a choice."

"Then you should choose wisely."

Darkness crept into the king's voice but Flynn knew better than to be intimidated. The longer he sat here and wasn't carted off to his death the more assured he was that he wouldn't be. The king needed his tactical ability. He needed someone who knew the sea, but in a different way than his naval force knew it. Corona needed him. Now it was time for strategy.

Flynn knew he had leverage. He knew that infamous pirate captains were rare, and the capture of one in such fine condition was even rarer. He also knew that since the king was here personally, with only a handful of guards, that there was a high chance that this venture was less than approved of by some of the political forces surrounding him daily. Since he had already lost three of his fleet and, conservatively, sixty sailors, it must be increasingly difficult to keep this under wraps. It was time for hired guns, and Flynn had a reputation for doing the impossible. That reputation gave Flynn the right to charge a premium.

"I want a ship." Flynn said. "In addition to my freedom, I want a ship."

The king's eyes widen. A guard coughs like he choked. Negotiation wasn't anticipated.

"I am not here to bargain with you. I am being generous as it is."

"You're sending me on a mission to an unknown and possibly torturous death. That doesn't sound too generous to me. Here I know what I am up against. Hanging is painful, sure, but it is quick. Out there, who knows?" Flynn wished he had his hands free to gesture. Terms always looked much nicer with hand gestures. "If I fulfill your little mission, a captain isn't much without a ship. Your little men destroyed my last one. Seems fair you replace the one you broke. Also, I'll need a crew I can trust so if I agree to do this - I want to pick my own men."

"Absolutely not!"

This objection came from behind Flynn. The king seemed as surprised as Flynn was at the interruption. Flynn turned his head to see who spoke, but the man was outside of his restricted field of vision.

"A thousand pardons, Your Excellency, but I must object. A ship crewed with only robbers and thieves would not do." His voice was rough and low, like it was used to barking orders and found difficulty doing anything but. "With your permission, Sire, I have years of experience dealing with criminals like this one and I would like to accompany him with my men to assure his most thorough loyalty to the crown."

Flynn rolled his eyes. Surely the king wouldn't listen to such a sniveling kiss-ass.

"Your men are militia men, Captain Herrmann." The king said and Flynn smirked. Militia men? Talk about worthless. There was no way they'd end up on his ship.

"Yes, My Lord, but our operative would be to keep Rider and his crew on task. We would go as sailors as much as we would go to keep the order and keep the men on target. Your royal court will not raise eyebrows of a few missing foot soldiers the way they would another ship and crew."

The king was silent. Was he actually considering this ludicrous proposition? A ship crawling with soldiers, not one pair of sea legs among them, was not only the worst idea Flynn had ever heard in his life – it looked like the king was actually entertaining the idea! If whole of Corona's military men bared any resemblance to the obnoxious voice presenting these ideas it was no small wonder that ships were disappearing. The whole operation was run by idiots.

"You understand that if Rider disappears - it will be on your head." The king replied in warning, and Flynn felt his jaw drop. The king wasn't implying what he thought he was implying. Was he?

"Yes, Majesty."

"Very well then. You will be on point for all of Rider's activities in regards to this voyage."

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." Flynn interjected, not believing his own ears. "Let's all get on the same page now, shall we? As far as I am concerned I have not agreed to any 'activities' for the tin hat brigade to monitor, and more importantly we have not settled on ample compensation if I do agree to this idiotic quest."

"I don't make bargains with pirates." The king said. It was quick, clearly his temper was running short.

Flynn locked eyes with the king who clenched his fists on the table. Flynn was pushing his patience. Well. Good. The king was pushing his.

"And _I_ don't make bargains with royals."

The reply was met with stony silence. If the king were ever to pull the plug on this deal, it would be now, but he didn't. There was only Flynn Rider and every moment they didn't kill him proved further how deep their need for him was. It was time to make them beg.

"Your freedom, your crew as approved by Captain Herrmann, and ten thousand crowns for the purchase of a ship on your successful return."

"My freedom, a crew as I want and freedom for them as well for faithful service on your fool's errand, and twenty thousand crowns." Flynn flicked an eyebrow at his opponent. "Haven't spent much time buying ships lately, have we, _Your Excellency_?"

The king put on a stone face, blocking out Flynn's taunting. "Twelve."

"Nineteen."

"Fourteen."

"Sixteen and safe harbor here. I'll leave your precious kingdom and its ships alone, but I have enemies in other ports. It would be nice to have a place to call home."

The king turned an unhealthy shade of red, his body almost quivering. Apparently the idea of a pirate calling his kingdom home was more than he could handle, and for one small instant, Flynn worried he pushed the deal too far. Then the king exhaled, and it seemed that all of his resolve fell out of him in that breath. His fight crumbled with his expression. His appearance melted from distinguished to ancient.

"By the gods, Rider, my queen is dying. Have you no love for your country?"

Flynn had six dozen comebacks for the question, all cutting, but he held his tongue. He saw the expression on the king's face and it held anguish he knew too well. It was a reflection of every feeling he felt watching his beautiful ship, _True North_, splinter and be swallowed in water in flame. Truth be told, he'd stashed away enough cash to buy another boat for himself, but he just liked the idea of squeezing blood for the royal stone. This, however, was different. This was pain he knew and even if he hated Corona's royalty and all they stood for, he knew what it was to lose the one you loved. This wasn't just a quest for immortality, it an act of desperation.

"I did. Once." Flynn conceded, careful to not let on that the king's revelation had changed anything. "You made it a little more difficult to care when you burned the woman I loved." He deludes his honesty with a smirk.

The king looked at him, and for the first time in their conversation, Flynn felt like they understood each other.

"Your freedom, your crew, your crew's freedom, safe harbor, and fifteen thousand crowns. Final offer, _Captain _Rider."

Flynn knew better than to barter now. This was it. He saw the fight drain from the man across from him at his confession and he knew the feeling. Still, he didn't want it to feel like he was just giving in, so he paused before answering. He wished he had a free hand to stroke the goatee on his chin for thoughtful effect, but he didn't, so he just exaggerated the silence.

Then, with an effortless grin, cat-like and cunning, he lowers his face so he can look up at the king from beneath raised eyebrows.

"You've got a deal." Flynn said. "Now can someone untie me? I've got to piss."

* * *

**A/N**: Wanna see when updates are coming and/or want to harass me for not writing? Follow my fanfiction twitter: **ravenswrite**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to any Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

* * *

_Chapter Two_

The _HMS Intrepid_ was the most beautiful ship Flynn had ever seen. Her lines were long and graceful, her sails soft and billowy, and his hands itched to run along the exposed wood of her hull, but he couldn't. His hands were cuffed in front of him and near thirty guards wrapped him on all sides, but even without touch he felt his body warm at the idea of commanding such a vessel. His blood surged. He felt he could overcome any adversity just for the promise of a sea breeze in his face and adventure cutting his path.

Well, almost any adversity.

Captain Herrmann, his royal babysitter, gave him a few doubts. Flynn had been in his company for less than a day and was already a master at drowning out the sound of Captain Herrmann's endless drone. It seemed like he had something to say about everything and it was all Flynn could do not to yell at him to shut up.

The only thing worse than hearing his voice was seeing his face.

Captain Herrmann's thin mustache hung over a thinner upper lip and wiggled like a worm with every move of his bulbous chin. Two round eyes, beady and bulgy all at once, were close set beneath a concrete furrow of brows. All of this was made more unpleasant by his perpetual self-importance, or maybe it was just his idiotic crested helmet. Either way, Flynn hated every stupid part of him. Every. Last. One.

"... and those are the qualifications you must consider upon selecting a crew."

Flynn faced Captain Herrmann as he finished and was glad he hadn't heard the rest of that speech. He was also glad that his hands weren't free because just half a sentence made him want to choke the man to death and, given his present company, that was a bad idea. It was better to beat him to a pulp using his tongue instead.

Flynn came out swinging, "Have you ever been on the open ocean when a storm blows up?"

Captain Herrmann's moustache twitched in irritation. Questions were not part of his order giving routine. "No – I haven't."

"It happens faster than you can imagine." Flynn didn't give the captain a chance to recover and stepped toe to toe with him. "So fast you can't think. Wind and water are the same thing. You can't see. You can't breathe, but you keep working. You do something useful or you get out of the way so you don't kill your entire ship. Can you do that?"

There was a beat. Then two. Flynn could feel his breath hitting the other man's cheek and bouncing back onto his face. He could see the vein in the captain's forehead twitching.

Then: "I don't see how that holds any bearing on -"

"Can any of your men do that?" Flynn cut him off, keeping his proximity, staring the captain straight in his eye.

"Listen here, Rider -!"

"No. You listen here –" Flynn spoke over him.

"Selection of this crew is crucial to the –" Captain Herrmann kept talking.

So did Flynn: "No landlubbing lackey of the king is going to tell me –"

"– ongoing prosperity of Corona and if you think for one second –"

"- what men I can or can't take with me or-"

"- I am going to let you compromise the future of our nation, you are incorrect!"

"- how to run a ship when you can't tell a stern from a bow!"

Both stood ramrod straight, nose to nose, foreheads almost touching. The guards fidgeted around them. No one quite knew what to do.

Flynn gave Captain Herrmann credit for standing his ground, but there was sweat on the captain's brow and Flynn knew it wasn't just from being decked out in metal from head to toe.

Captain Herrmann didn't have any real power.

He knew it, Flynn knew it, and if any of the guards had brains they knew it too. The King may have put Captain Herrmann "in charge" of him, but he had no leverage. He and his men couldn't sail a boat but Flynn, and the men he knew, could. Flynn didn't need Captain Herrmann, and the attempt of this mission was a decision made on Flynn's terms, a decision that could be changed if any of the terms Flynn negotiated changed. Terms like picking his crew without approval of a certain feather-headed ignoramus.

Imagine how upset Captain Herrmann's precious king would be if Flynn backed out on account of Captain Herrmann being such an idiot. As much as Flynn liked the idea of getting this thorn in his side in trouble, he knew the payout wasn't worth it. Not when a ship as perfect as _Intrepid_ waited for him.

"There was a bargain struck and it won't suit you well to change it." Flynn kept his voice low and level. "Leave picking the crew up to me. Loyalty to the crown doesn't mean much when the waves are against you."

"There are men in Corona who are both loyal and able. That is who we need. Not more rabble like you." Captain Herrmann wore a snarl on his mouth, clinging desperately to any semblance of authority. If it wasn't so annoying, it might have been cute.

"Those men are already in Corona's Navy which, if I remember correctly, is strictly off limits. We're taking men I know can sail, sail right, and not get your dear king in trouble with the powers that be. Their colors may be closer to mine than yours, but they will get the job done."

Flynn waited for further disagreement, but it didn't come. The captain's gaze didn't waver and the clench of his jaw tightened, but he was silent. He wouldn't admit defeat or concession with words, but he wouldn't fight a battle where each outcome was his loss. Maybe he was a little less of an idiot than Flynn thought. With the captain's silence ringing like a victory bell, Flynn's face slipped into an easy smirk. The captain's eyes darkened and he looked like he might speak again, but Flynn stepped back with a laugh and said:

"Now that we understand each other, why don't you be a friendly sort and un-cuff me? The men we need are this way and it won't do to have them see me in chains. First impressions are everything, you know."

* * *

The Snuggly Duckling was anything but what the name implied. It housed every low life wharf rat young, old, or otherwise. The seats of this port's pub were ones Flynn frequented when he slipped into Corona between voyages or when he needed to settle a score. It was a dingy dump where blending in was never an issue since everyone there was wanted on at least one count of something somewhere and no one wanted to draw attention.

So when they were one block from the seedy establishment with almost thirty of Corona's officers, in full arms and dress, Flynn knew something had to give. He walked in the center of a formidable sea of red and gold, hands still bound because the captain was a sore loser, and something about this picture had to change before they got any closer or all hell would break loose.

That was why, without warning, Flynn stopped walking.

The guards didn't.

Metal clad men crashed into his back. Flynn dug in his heels and kept from stumbling onto his face and waited. The clatter of armor and frenzied feet against the earth alerted the soldiers in front of Flynn to his impromptu halt and they whirled with hands on their hilts, ready to fight or run or whatever need be. They all shared a look of confusion when the only trouble they found was their fellow soldiers straightening various pieces of armor while Flynn stood there waiting, fake innocence plastered on his face.

Captain Herrmann burst through from the front with a huff. "What is the meaning of this? Don't even think of trying something funny, Rider, or else I will redefine your meaning of the word 'pain'."

Captain Herrmann pounded over to Flynn, getting in his space, mimicking Flynn's approach from earlier. Flynn yawned.

"I'm shaking." Flynn said and the speed at which the captain's face turned red couldn't be healthy. "Look boys," Flynn shifted his weight into one hip. "No one in there is going to be happy to see you, but you're probably used to that." He didn't even try to be patronizing, it just happened. "My pitch is going to be a hard enough sell without all of you crowding me, so it is best that you stay out of sight while I get my crew assembled."

"Not so fast, Rider." Captain Herrmann said. "You think I'm just going to let you go in there unaccompanied - you've got the wrong idea."

"Look - surround the place, guard the doors and windows, get up by the chimney, do whatever you want _outside _the place just, for your own damn sake, don't come inside."

"This isn't my first time dealing with criminals like you. You must think I am some special sort of idiot if you think I am just going to let you walk in there by yourself."

Flynn bit his tongue. The captain just made it all too easy, but the man was already licking his wounds from Flynn's last victory. Flynn knew adding insult to injury wouldn't help his cause at this point. He also knew the keys to his cuffs were inches away from his bound hands and if he could just distract the man for a few more moments he would show him how much of an idiot he was, not just tell him.

"Every single one of the guys in there have something against Corona and for most of them their idea of a good time is slamming skulls together." Flynn shifted in towards the captain again until his fingers brushed the keys hanging at the captain's waist. "I think they would all find great joy in breaking open your heads to see if you actually have brains."

The captain eyed him. His thin mustache doubled the firm line of his mouth.

"If you try to run, I swear every guard in this country will be after you." The captain said and Flynn didn't doubt it, but he wasn't going anywhere. He had a much better plan.

"Me? Run? And miss out on a few months on a boat with you and your smiling face? Never." Flynn winked just for good measure as he turned the proper key in one of his manacles, laughing to cover the click of metal releasing.

"You have five minutes to do your talking. If you're not out before then we will just have to see how your men stand up to efficient training of Corona's militia."

Flynn barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Corona's militia just let him unlock his handcuffs right in front of them.

"I'm trying to drag up the best talent on the seas to save the lovely queen, and you are going to limit my time?" Flynn clicked his tongue. "Shame on you, sir. Shame on you."

"If you are as good as the king seems to think you are, you shouldn't need more time than that." The captain sneered. Did Flynn detect some jealousy, resentment? This was just too much.

"Oh. Don't worry. I am good, but this is a delicate process. So here is how it is going to work. You all follow behind me a bit, let me get inside, then man your posts and wait as long as it takes for me to get some of the best sailors known to earth to sign on to this wild goose chase."

"My men and I don't take orders from pirates."

"And I don't take orders from men wearing shiny hats." Flynn said. "Look – I'm not going to run. I don't have anywhere to go. You kind of cut my options to zero when you burned my ship and killed my entire crew. My best option is to follow through with my agreement."

Flynn put on his best sincere expression but even his sincerity was impudent. The captain inspected Flynn, and he was right to. Flynn hadn't made a reputation for being honest and if the captain could read Flynn's thoughts he would know that he didn't plan on changing that today. Not everything that Flynn told the captain was a lie, not all of it was true either. It was true that there would be no great disappearance tonight, though not because of Corona's military. It was because Flynn was smitten. From the moment he saw _HMS_ _Intrepid_, he knew he had to sail her at any price. He wouldn't run. No, he'd sail. He'd sail and when they didn't find the mystery island (which they wouldn't because Flynn knew it couldn't be real) Flynn would find another island. There he would maroon the captain and all of his annoying minions. Then, with his new ship and crew, life would be as it should be once more. The plan was flawless, just like the man who devised it.

"Ten minutes, Rider, that's all you get." The captain said this like it was some great favor. "Then I don't care what you say – if you aren't back out here after that I'll drag you out of there myself and cut down any man that gets in my way. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear." Flynn said before raising his hand to dangle his manacles in front of Captain Herrmann's face. "Would you mind holding this for me till I get back?"

Captain Herrmann snatched the offending metal out of Flynn's grasp. It looked like it took every fiber of his control not to explode. Flynn had never seen a more wonderful sight.

The guards followed behind Flynn several paces as he walked the last block to the Snuggly Duckling. When he reached the door, he paused. Captain Herrmann barked orders at his men, a good twenty feet behind him, to create a barricade around perimeter. They were about as inconspicuous as a peacock in full spread, but he'd have to take it. They weren't going to make this easy for him. With a deep breath and prayer to a god he didn't believe in, Flynn pushed his way into the bar.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the murky light inside. Salt from sea and sweat filled the air along with the smell of ale and piss (which were basically interchangeable in this place). He scanned the place for familiar faces a found a few. There was Vlad, the mountainous helmsman; Geppetto, former carpenter now shipmake; Bomb Voyage, the best gunner for hire in these parts; Ulf, the mute navigator; and that was just who he saw at first glance. There was more than enough men here to make a good crew. That was if he could convince them to board a royal ship with royal guardsmen and go on a crazy expedition where _if_ the minute chance of it being more than a fable came true it may get them all killed. And he only had ten minutes to do it. Yeah, this was no problem.

He went to the bar and ordered a drink. He pushed the few coins he stole on the way over to the barkeep just as a hulking brute approached him. The man was bald with a spindly moustache and a glinting metal hook where his left hand should have been. He stepped up to Flynn with a suspicious look in his eye.

"Rider." The word bit with deep gravel. "Word is your ship's burned and all your crew's dead. Seems like if that were true – you should be dead, too."

So people _did_ know about _True North_. Fantastic. As if his job wasn't difficult enough already, now he was the captain who didn't go down with his crew and ship, but he could use this. He could make this work. He had to.

"Good to see you too, Hookhand. How have you been?" Flynn downplayed the seriousness of the accusation, but kept mindful watch on the gleaming appendage. He'd seen what it could do.

"Cut the small talk. We don't have room here for cowards." Hookhand said as Rider took his drink from the barkeep.

"I got plucked out of the ocean by the Royal Navy. Seems a man of my reputation is too much of a treasure to be lost to old Davey Jones." Flynn used the accusation as a segue. "Now I am all set up with a bright and shiny future s'long as I do the king a little favor." Flynn drank a sip of his stein and, yep, piss. It tasted like piss. Good to know some things never changed.

"That favor better not be a raid, cause I saw who you came with. I swear if you came to help the crown smoke us out I will gut you myself." He slammed his hook into the scared wood of the bar for emphasis.

All eyes were on them now. The menacing gesture from Hookhand had gotten their attention, and Flynn felt his insides tighten. Not only was it out that he _should_ be dead because his ship sank, Hookhand noticed his babysitters. He had to work, and fast.

"The king granted me a ship, forgiveness, and freedom as long as my first voyage is to pick up a little something for him. There are more clean slates floating around for anyone who joins my crew. Thought I might see if any of the men here would be interested in helping hoist the sails for absolution."

He kept it easy, nonchalant, and dismissed Hookhand's concern like his military escort was just another day in the fantastical existence of Flynn Rider, but in reality he was sweating bullets. Silence hung like a pall in the air. He drank again. If he was going to die today, he may as well finish his ale.

"Where are you sailing?" The question came from Vlad, the helmsman who was twice the size of a normal man with arms the circumference of Flynn's head.

"Not quite sure. It is some mystery island His Majesty's Navy was too daft to find. Those boys are all tactical maneuvers and no ability. You get them off book and they are worthless." A grumble of agreement ran through the crowd at the mutual hatred of the crown. "Where ever it is – the king's men couldn't find it so I thought I'd give a crack at it."

"What's on the mystery island that's got the king slumming it with you, Rider?" It is an unfortunate looking man at the end of the bar. His large nose was his namesake.

"Yeah. Must be a doozy if he has to trust the likes of you." Echoed an ironclad man Flynn knew as Attila.

"Look, guys, the king wasn't big on specifics on this one and I was a little tied up during out discussion – if you know what I mean. All I know is it is an island that his men couldn't find."

Hookhand looked down his nose at him, his eyebrows furrowed in doubt. His expression spoke for the entire crowd in the room.

Then a voice rang out from the back of the bar. "Sounds cockeyed to me. This is all some sort of set up, isn't it? We sign on with you, then sail right to the noose and you get off free for turning us in, is that it?."

It was a fair speculation from the darkest corner of the room. Flynn he couldn't make out who asked it but something inside his gut twisted at the sound of their voice.

"I've got near three dozen of the king's best babysitting me right now. If they were interested in lynching any of you – you think they would have sent me in here to warn you about them first?" Flynn said, squinting, trying to see back where the question originated.

"Some of us have sailed with you before, Rider. We know what kind of man you are."

It was the same shadowed voice as before, low, grumbling, and familiar. Flynn knew that voice. He'd know it anytime, anywhere, but he didn't want to believe he was hearing it here. Abandoning his spot at the bar, Flynn stepped close to the corner where his heckler dwelled.

Flynn's face must have read his disbelief because the voice taunted: "You don't recognize me, Rider? I'm hurt."

Oh. Flynn did, even without a face, he just didn't want to. The owner of that voice should be in Glimdon, or Perstine – at least two kingdoms away from Corona but still never far enough away for Flynn's taste. The last time they were on a ship together, they were the only ones to make it off alive. In the same turn they were the only ones who knew the secret of how they managed that magnificent feat. But they couldn't be here, not in Corona, not now. They had an agreement splitting the sea for purpose of never seeing each other again, carrying their legendary secret with them till death. But they were here, now, in this bar, and Flynn didn't want to believe it.

"Stabbington." Rider said, not needing visual confirmation. He stopped short several feet back from the dark corner table that harbored his taunter. "What are you doing in my port?"

The words were a challenge, a demand. Flynn squared his shoulders as the darkness shifted, shadows coming solid, and moved into the light. The red headed brothers looked much the same as they did the last time Flynn saw them years ago, but thicker, harder, older. Time and the winds had been cruel to them.

"Heard you'd been locked up and headed for the gallows. Figured we'd come by and see about staking our own claim before some other bilge rat tried." Stabbington smoothed his thick sideburns as he spoke.

Rider swallowed.

He didn't like the gleam in Patch Stabbington's one good eye as his brother spoke.

"Looks like you're out of luck, boys. Hate to disappoint, but it doesn't seem like this territory is going to open to the likes of you anytime soon."

"On the contrary, looks like we got here just in time for a much more interesting deal." The brothers exchanged a chilling look before Chops spoke again. "A couple free passes would make life a little easier."

Their intention made Flynn's stomach tie knots.

The last men he wanted aboard his ship were the Stabbington brothers for a thousand reasons. At the top of his list was that he knew the depth of their treachery and capability for deceit, and they knew his just as intimately. They knew the same truth of him that he knew of them. A truth that, if it came to light, was unforgivable by any class, code, or creed and Flynn was at a disadvantage. He needed men, and beggars couldn't be choosers, but he couldn't have the Stabbingtons on board. He just couldn't.

"We have no need for captains or first mates." Threat of rank was the most power he had to wield against them.

"You going to make us your cabin boys, Rider?" Chops Stabbington used a chuckle to lay down the challenge. Disrespect dripped from each syllable.

All eyes were on them and Flynn knew it. Every man in this bar could be part of his crew. The exchanges they saw here set precedence for behavior on the ship. Flynn was already running a circus with the military on board. Blatant mockery, especially from the Stabbingtons, wouldn't do. This stopped here.

Flynn squared his shoulders and set his jaw. He opened out to the crowded bar, his side to the brothers, and felt his tongue stick in his mouth. He'd made speeches to crews before, even solicited potential members, but this felt different. Probably because he knew it just might not work, and that wasn't a feeling he was used to, but he had to try. Either that or be stuck on a boat for months with a bunch of straight-laced, rule-following, second-rate, king-loving sailors that would get him killed with their incompetence.

That thought was enough to spark the words he needed.

"This is, at best, an unconventional arrangement. I know that. I wish I could answer all of your questions, but I can't. The risk is high, sure, but so is the reward. I could have gone and selected men that Corona thought were good enough for this voyage, but what does the king know about the sea? I am here because I know you men are the finest sailors a port can offer." Flynn turned his head to the bothers at his side. "Each man will pull their own weight and will be assigned rank based on need and experience." He looked back out at the crowd, but not before he caught three eyes worth of daggers. "I'm looking for a full crew. Payment is forgiveness for all and any grievance Corona has against you. You also get to make those navy bastards look like the idiots they are when we do what they couldn't."

The room is a canvas of blank expressions.

His heart sank, not even the jab at the royal navy got a reaction. He expected at least some pensive nods, but he got nothing, and that was one of his better speeches. Not one to let on that his confidence was shaken, Flynn strode to the bar where his abandoned drink sat and drained the tankard. It didn't taste any better this time around, but it was the only thing he could think to do to keep from babbling. He slammed the mug onto the bar and looked out at the room once more. They all still watched him, and he swallowed down the impending panic that failure always brought. He hadn't failed - yet.

He gave one last sweep of the room with his eyes, wishing he had enough time to sit down with each man and convince him to join his cause, but he didn't. He was out of time and his mouth felt dry even though he'd just finished his drink.

"The ship is the _HMS Intrepid_. She's in the royal ship yards." Flynn said. "We sail at dawn."

With that, he went to leave, feet feeling like bricks, and he caught a glance of the Stabbingtons. They'd moved up from their obsure recess in the corner, thick arms crossed over broad chests, and the darkness in their expression made his stomach turn. That look made it clear that surviving Captain Herrmann's endless prattle was no longer his greatest concern.

He pushed open the door and squinted against the light. He was out of The Snuggly Duckling less than two steps before handcuffs were clamped back on his wrists, this time they locked them behind his back. He didn't bother to quip at their futility. He had too many other things on his mind.

"Do we have a crew?" Captain Herrmann walked behind Flynn now, personally seeing that his handcuffs stayed in place, as The Snuggly Duckling was lost to the twists and turns of the allies by the docks.

"It was never a question." Flynn smirked. Even if the captain couldn't see it, it made him feel better.

"For your sake, I hope you're right."

Flynn could picture the condescending shape of Captain Herrmann's mouth forming those words. It made his skin crawl, but for the first time in history, Flynn Rider couldn't agree with the captain more.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaime**r: I own nothing related to any Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

* * *

The predawn air held tight to the night chill that fell over the kingdom. Thick fog blanketed the docks, rolling across the water in billowing folds. Flynn attuned to every creak, every thump, every shift in the gray shroud surrounding him and his guards. Dawn was within the hour and still no men had arrived for a crew. The calm exterior he fronted was a shallow mask for the horrible reality building inside of him.

What if no one came?

He might as well have hung to save himself the shame. It wasn't too late to throw his body into the ocean and drown. He knew the guards would be more than happy to accommodate him that favor, and if something didn't happen very soon, he might let them.

The ship groaned and Flynn startled.

"A little jumpy, are we?" Captain Herrmann's moustache twitched as he spoke.

"Just testing your reflexes." Flynn tried to relax the tightness in his shoulders. The heavy weight of the guard's hands resting there made it difficult.

He breathed. It was all he could do. They loaded the supplied last night into the cargo hold. Or more like he watched the soldiers load the supplies while he was chained to the foremast with ten armed men making sure he went nowhere. Captain Herrmann took the job of keeping him chained up seriously. Flynn wondered if the captain really believed his lack of escape attempts was related to his vigilant eye, and concluded he probably did. It was better that way, really. He'd never see the rebellion coming. That is if his crew ever showed up.

He heard them before he saw them; heavy footsteps on creaking wood proclaimed their approach.

The coated darkness swirled and birthed familiar, scared faces. It was Vlad, the mountainous helmsman; Attila, the ironclad cook; and Hookhand, a man who scared respect into even the proudest of men. At their appearance, the grip on Flynn tightened and the rank of guards fidgeted. The thugs looked equally ill at ease facing the uniformed men.

Captain Herrmann was about to speak when Flynn cut him off.

"Gentlemen, welcome to the first and possibly only voyage of its kind." He would have made a grand sweeping gesture, but his restraints didn't allow for it.

"I thought you said navy wasn't part of this." Hookhand's face twisted in disgust.

"Navy isn't. Guardsmen are." Flynn cut off Captain Herrmann again. "They are just a formality, really. They want to make sure I do as I agreed, keep on the straight and narrow, till we bring back what we're supposed to. You won't even notice them."

"Are you men sailors?" Captain Herrmann stepped in front of Flynn, as if physically upstaging him would do something.

"No. They're milkmaids." Flynn tried to step forward too, but the hands on his shoulders restrained him.

Captain Herrmann turned and glared at Flynn for the interruption, but anything the captain did at this point would just upset these men more than anything else. He didn't want to see these men upset. Best to make the captain look like the idiot he was so the men would know he was on their side.

"Look men, these tin cans are just along for the ride to make sure I don't take their shiny boat and never come back. You won't even know they are onboard." Flynn said as more figures popped out of the fog one by one.

They were rough looking men with stories for their scars and he recognized most of them. He'd be glad to sail with any of them. The trick was now to get them to reciprocate even with the less than ideal arrangement with all the king's men.

The menacing group didn't look impressed with his promises.

"King's men on a voyage with a secret destination and unknown cargo… sounds like a fool's errand to me." Hookhand raised his namesake in accusation. "This is some kind of trap, isn't it Rider?"

The burly men advanced an inch and the metal clad companions around Flynn clattered.

"I say we take the boat and forget the guards." This time it was a man Flynn only knew as Scar. He was aptly named for the huge diagonal slash disfiguring his face beneath a mess of scraggly black hair.

Hookhand gripped his sword.

Captain Herrmann reaches his hand to his weapon, too, and his men follow suit. Flynn watched with terror mounting in his chest. This was a bad time to be handcuffed.

"Men, please, there is no need for violence. Everyone is just feeling a little pre-sail anxiety. Totally normal. Let's not make decisions that we are going to regret." Flynn smiled, but knew it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Only thing I regret is listening to the likes of you, Rider." It was Attila, his iron mask obscuring his face. "Never should have trusted you or your silver platter!"

"Let's take the boat, and bring Rider along. We could use a good figurehead." Vlad said and a rough chuckle worked through the growing group of pirates.

Flynn swallowed. Hard. This was going poorly.

"Stand down all of you!" Captain Herrmann yelled and Flynn grimaced. The authoritative approach wasn't the best one with this crowd. These men had made their lives by spitting on common authority.

"Call off your watch dog, Rider, before we bring him along too as an anchor." Hookhand brought his hook up under Captain Herrmann's nose and all hell broke loose.

Flynn wasn't sure who drew the first sword, but he was pretty sure it was Captain Herrmann. He would be so stupid. Flashes of metal flew out around Flynn in a cascade of violence and the weight of shifting bodies in the swirling fog made the wooden dock creak in protest. The hands on his shoulders tightened and pulled him back into a tight unit of guards, but Flynn felt far less than safe. He knew what these men were capable of doing and he wasn't excited about witnessing any of it firsthand.

In the chaos of fog and fury, only a few guards were left to guard Flynn from escape. The rest were focused on growing tide of angry pirates, and Flynn braced his body in search for a way to escape as this deal went south. A window presented itself as one of the guards moved to parry.

With a jerk, a lunge, and a jump, Flynn slammed his way out of the protective grasp of his guards. His elbow made calculated contact with the joint at the side a breastplate before twisting under the grasping arms of a guard, tripping him at the same time and sending him careening into his comrades. Flynn side stepped the lunge of one of his captors and jumped his feet over the chains binding his wrists so his hands were in front. A mealy mouthed guard charged at him, clumsy arms grasping. Flynn's hands clasped together and he put his whole weight behind them as he swung and smashed his fists against the guard's cheek. The force made the uniformed foe stumble against his comrade. They both tumbled in a tangled heap from the unexpected blow.

This was Flynn's chance to run. He just needed a break in the writhing wall of angry pirates to put some distance between himself and the guards. Then Vlad whirled his huge body to deflect a blow from Captain Herrmann and Flynn catapulted towards the gap. He slipped through the window right before the mountain of man parried a blow and filled the hole once more.

Then Flynn was crushed by a sea of swords and sweat. He curled in on himself, trying to keep safe and as unnoticed in the boiling violence as possible. He darted his way through the fighting bodies. Picking his way with care and speed, he pressed towards the edge of the dock, as close as he could without toppling into the ocean below. The crowd wasn't too deep, starting in the middle of it helped, and it was just a matter of seconds before Flynn extracted himself from the mob though it felt much longer.

Heart pounding, sweat sticking to his brow, Flynn's mouth would have cracked grin if it wasn't gasping from exertion and nerves. He'd made it! Another impossible feat by Flynn Rider to add to his log of reasons why he was better than everyone else, but now was not the time to celebrate. It was time to get as far away from this mess as quickly as possible.

He was only four strides into phase two of his get-away when he smashed into the solid wall of a man's chest. The thickness of the fog and lingering darkness hid the obstruction before it was too late and the impact sent Flynn reeling. What the…?

Hands, much bigger and heavier than any guards, slammed themselves on his shoulders and clamped like a vice. They pushed him back a few inches, giving space, but didn't release him. Even through the disorienting surprise, Flynn knew them without introduction.

"I think you're headed the wrong way there, _Captain_." Chops Stabbington said as he dropped his hands off of Flynn's shoulders. "Seems to me your obligations are right here."

"Well, they were, but you know how these things get out of hand sometimes." Flynn side stepped the hulk. "It's been great seeing you. We'll have to catch up soon. Can't wait for that, but right now I have an escape to make, so I'll just be going."

A hand hooked around his bicep and was soon mirrored by another on the other side. Flynn swore under his breath.

"Not so fast, Rider." Chops said. "You're coming with us." And with that, the brothers lifted him so his boots didn't even graze the ground.

Flynn expected many things to happen in this moment. Most of them ended with him dying, all of them involved pain, and none of them were what actually happened. Instead of broken bones, death, or even the reasonable option of walking away from the melee to hash out his punishment elsewhere, the brothers cut into the throng with Flynn suspended between them. Their massive bodies shoved past the conflict, making a path where there was none, commanding the space.

The fighting men paused at the sight of the titans carrying Flynn from the opposite side from where they expected him to be. The oddity of it stopped the tempest flat, tempers cooling in mutual confusion, and they gawked at the sight. Flynn managed a smirk. Even though he couldn't be any less in control, he would try to look like he was. That was about all he could do.

When they made it to the stalled front line, the twins dropped their burden. Flynn thudded on the dock and stumbled a step at the unexpected release. From his unceremonious delivery to the grim faces surrounding him, nothing about this gave Flynn any hope of this panning out in his favor.

That is why the next words pierced through his system like a knife.

"We sail with Rider." Chops announced to the stupefied crowd. "You all would be wise to join us."

The words clung to the air like the fog. The frantic turmoil from the instant before was forgotten in the wake of new surprise. The men's swords hung at their sides like they heard, but they didn't understand. Maybe they didn't. Flynn sure didn't.

The brothers offered a proposition, accompanied by a threat, which was traditional, but Flynn had not expected any part of it to be in his favor. Shove him into a swinging sword, sure. Push him off the dock with a weight on his ankles, yeah. Bring him forward and volunteer themselves as captain since he was such a yellow-bellied coward, of course. Those were all likely scenarios. This was not.

He knew these men and what kind of cloth they were cut from. They were after something. They always were. What, he wasn't sure, but he knew that they wanted it badly. He knew it was only a matter of time before they'd let him know, and none of the arrangements Flynn's imagination came up with were enjoyable.

"Rider – what is the meaning of this?" Captain Herrmann kept his eye on his opponent, Vlad, even though their swords were lowered.

The question snapped Flynn out of his morbid fantasies. He had to have an answer for this. It was his job to have an answer for this. Oh fates – what was his answer for this?

"It - it means that at least two of you still have some common sense left in you." He grabbed for his usual swagger and held onto the coattails he caught for dear life. "Unlike you unruly bunch of worrywart land lubbers."

The group shifted, as close to embarrassed as grown men could show, and Flynn caught the bewilderment on the faces of his men. Two of their own sailing with Flynn set a precedent. If two other pirates, well known for their skills, were willing to throw in their lot on this venture, then their rabble rousing now seemed uncalled for. One by one, Hookhand, Vlad, Attila, and the others sheathed their weapons.

At least they did until Captain Herrmann ruined everything – again.

"What makes you think we'd sign any of these men after this ruckus?" Captain Herrmann glared at the group and if Flynn could kill someone with a look – Captain Herrmann would have dropped dead.

"Because we're all you've got." Chop spread his hands to gesture the whole motley crew. "And if Rider says this is all right – we trust him."

That last sentence shocked Flynn to the core. Trust? Him? After everything they had been through, the idea was laughable. Flynn trusted these brothers are far as he could throw them, which was precisely not at all.

Help never came free, especially from a pirate. There was a price on this intervention. Flynn knew it was only a matter of time before they would ask him to pay up. His skin crawled. What did he have that they wanted?

Everyone was silent, even the ships. A few grab at minor cuts they sustained in the heated moments before, no one terribly wounded, but none say a word. They all eyed their cohorts and antagonists and waited for someone other than them to make a move. Someone had to give an indication of what they should do. Someone had to take the blame if this all went sour.

Hookhand took his one good hand off of the handle of is blade with a sigh and said: "Where do I sign on?"

A wash of relief and anxiety crashed over Flynn. Relief that he may have a capable crew. Anxiety because in that crew there would be the only two men he feared on this good earth.

"This way." Captain Herrmann jerked his head over towards the gangplank where a table with the ship's log waited. "Form a line and we'll fill spots as needed."

Flynn kept his back turned towards the water and heels close to the edge as he watched the men filter past until the guards came over to recapture him.

He'd stabbed enough people in the back to know not to give anyone else that chance.

* * *

The open sea spread before The HMS Intrepid like an endless field of secrets and glass. The crew assembled and boarded before the first light of dawn crowded the sky. Guardsmen and pirates alike on the same vessel, sharing space, sea, and ship, but far from enjoying it. The groups segregated within instants.

Flynn rubbed his wrists. It wasn't until the last of Corona's shoreline disappeared into the glimmering horizon that Captain Herrmann "allowed" Flynn to be un-cuffed. Flynn assumed it was because he was no longer viewed as an escape threat. If everything that man did wasn't so annoying, Flynn might think the notion was cute, but probably not. Especially since the idiot, in lieu of his binds, had seen fit to assign a young guardsman to watch him at all times. A young guardsman who was standing behind him on the bridge right now and Flynn hated him for breathing.

The guard was just a kid, couldn't be older than nineteen, but he was bigger than Flynn by some margin. He had a long face, giant teeth, and round brown eyes that flashed suspicion every time Flynn shifted. It was clear he didn't like Flynn, but that was okay with him. The feeling was mutual. Zealots weren't his thing. Pride for country wasn't his thing. The boy had both in spades and it was obnoxious.

"Are you just going to stare at me all day and night, kid?" Flynn said without looking at his watchful companion. "Cause I see that getting uncomfortable for both of us real quick."

"My orders are to know where you are at all times." The young sentry said and it was clear he wouldn't waver in his purpose. This kid was career military if Flynn had ever seen one.

"So I'm supposed to check in with you every time I move, or need to take a shit?" Flynn looked back in the guard's directions.

"Yes."

The answer wasn't meant to be funny, but Flynn bit back a laugh. Privacy on a boat was rare, especially one as crowded as theirs was right now. Flynn was used to not having much time to himself and it didn't bother him, but the idea of being assigned a watchdog made him balk. It was the biggest waste of time he'd ever heard of. The mystery of the king's men disappearing on a slightly less than routine voyage made more and more sense with each passing moment. They probably killed themselves by thinking.

The road less traveled was no place for a uniform.

Flynn rotated to look full on his assigned shadow and took a good hard look at him.

He didn't like what he saw.

Underneath the stuffy helmet, a shock of white blonde hair was suffocating. The length of his face accented high thick cheekbones and a straining chin strap pulled along his bulky jaw. He was tall and wide, but not in the same way most sailors were wide from too much ale. His breadth bore the mark of intention. He'd worked his body to hone this shape and carried himself like a beacon of virility. He could be handsome, maybe, but not in the classic sense, and definitely not with the scowl he bore on Flynn's inspection.

"Well. Since you are going to see me at my best, why don't we settle into a last name basis." Flynn said. "The men call me Captain, but you can just call me Captain Rider."

He gave Flynn a snort. Who was this kid to snort at him?

"You don't like me much, do you?" Flynn didn't wait for an answer. "If I were you – I'd _hate_ me. Rogue pirate, scourge of Corona's seas, all around charming and good looking… You're not a navy man but I'd wager I've taken at least one thing from you that held dear." He pushed for a reply, trying to irk the soldier, finding amusement at his disgust.

"Any time you break a law of the king, you take something from me. From all of us." The youth spat. Flynn smirked.

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"Dignity. Our right to reason and decency." The turn of phrase was so unexpected, so eloquent, that Flynn wondered what half-wit philosopher he stole it from.

"That is all well and good, but you see without people like me looting and stealing and generally taking things that aren't ours, you little code there would be meaningless. If everyone played by the rules, there would be no game. If there was no me, there would be no you." Flynn leaned back against the railing on his elbows. "The thing is that you need me. Otherwise you are just some guy wearing a shiny bonnet."

Flynn reached a hand to tap the golden helmet, but the guard jerked away and grabbed for the hilt of his sword. Flynn raised his hands in mock surrender and smirked. This guard needed him on a fundamental level. It was good to remind him of that even though he didn't seem to agree.

"Just some food for thought." Flynn said and turned to descend from the bridge, headed for the main deck, when he found himself unexpectedly blocked. It was his stupid guard. Flynn was surprised. The boy was quick on his feet, much quicker than Flynn would have thought for his size. Perhaps he underestimated him.

"Here is something for _you_ to chew on." The guard's lip curled as he spoke. "If men like you didn't exist and I had to hang up my sword for good, I'd be the happiest man alive. You are a parasite living off the sweat of others and you make me sick. You earn nothing. You take everything and if it were up to me I'd see you hang just as soon as I'd take my next breath." He narrowed his eyes to slits, and he looked down his nose at Flynn. "You can call me Lieutenant Maximus."

Flynn had barely expected intelligence from his watchdog, much less eloquence. Also surprising was the rank. He did not expect a lieutenant. A private, first class maybe, but not a ranking officer, not potentially Captain Herrmann's right hand man. It took considerable effort to keep him face neutral, but he managed.

"Maximus, huh?" Flynn said. "Sure you want to stick with that?"

"It is the name my father gave me. You know anything about that or are you just as much a bastard as your reputation would have me believe?"

Something deep sparked deep in Flynn's stomach at that comment. Any thoughts of neutrality burned up with a vehement urge to teach this kid a lesson, but he knew better than to fight. He pulled all that rage into a calculated quirk at the corner of his lip and cutting flash of the eye.

"Did you father give you that face, too? Cause if he did – he did you no favor."

A cloud covered Maximus' face at Flynn's insult. The moment that followed was thick with anticipation. Each muscle in Flynn's body was coiled like a spring, waiting to explode into action, but he waited. Flynn watched and waited for the slightest flinch, a minute indication of attack, and then he'd show him. He'd call it self-defense, insubordination. This idiot may have been a lieutenant on land, but this was the sea, and here Flynn was in charge.

Maximus shifted and the sun glinted off of his metal clad shoulders. Flynn's fist clenched. His pulse rocketed and his blood sang in anticipation. He gritted his teeth in restraint. The worst thing he could do now would be to let his excitement to beat this guard witless get the better of him. His body clenched in preparation to receive the initiating blow from Maximus when a voice stopped him.

"Rider!"

Captain Herrmann's voice was already on the top of the list of Flynn Rider's most hated things, but his timing was climbing the ranks as well. He had a way of picking the worst moments for everything. This was no exception. The call from on deck stole any momentum that the men had towards fighting like a brick wall.

"Rider, I need to talk to you!"

It was always talking _to_ and never talking _with_. Flynn cringed. Captain Herrmann may as well have said talking _at_ him, because that was a much more accurate description.

"I'm right here." Flynn made a point to sound as bored as possible. "I've been trying to talk with this stooge you have babysitting me, but his words are no too good." Flynn clowned in Maximus' face and the man's nostrils' flared.

"Lieutenant Maximus." Captain Herrmann said, ignoring Flynn.

With practiced brainlessness, the large lieutenant swung open so his back now faced Flynn and he could give his full attention to his superior officer. The sudden movement made Flynn stagger back a step. That no good oaf could have warned him.

"Yes Captain." Lieutenant Maximus saluted.

"Please escort Rider to my quarters."

Downgraded from direct contact to mediated interaction. Flynn couldn't decide if he should be insulted or thankful, but he sure as hell knew that when Maximus gestured Flynn towards the Captain's Quarters just behind where he stood at the helm that he should be furious.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Flynn held up his hands in motion to stop the process. "What _exactly_ makes you think that these are _your_ quarters?" Flynn pushed past Maximus to confront the man coming up the stairs.

The daft expression of assumed authority on Herrmann's face solidified Flynn's first rumblings of a headache from hell.

"Well. You've got one thing right for once. We definitely need to talk."

Lieutenant Maximus unlocked and opened the door to the cabin, and Captain Herrmann passed between them and into the enclosed space. Flynn made an elaborate sweeping gesture with his arm towards the entrance and bowed in deep mockery to usher in the stern faced captain. Maximus' face turned an unhealthy red at his blatant lack of respect. Captain Herrmann ignored him.

"Ladies first." Maximus said as he waited for Flynn to follow the captain.

"Then I must insist you go." Flynn made the same grand gesture that he did for the captain. Maximus scoffed, and reached with arms as long as tree branches to grab Flynn's arm, and jerk him without ceremony through the door. Flynn stumbled into the room, catching his balance on the edge of an ornate chair. He straightened and brushed his vest and sleeves as if to remove any residue of idiot that may have clung there.

"Did you teach him his manners, or is your pet always so well behaved?" Flynn shoved his hand through his hair and tossed a glare at the lieutenant shutting the door behind them.

"Lieutenant Maximus is my most trusted man. You could do to learn a thing or two from him, Rider." The captain walked across the room to the stern window and looked out.

"More that you both could do to learn a thing two from me." Flynn held his ground, not following after Captain Herrmann like a dog. He'd leave that up to Maximus.

"Oh? And what could I possibly learn from you?" Captain Herrmann turned and smirked at Flynn.

"Style, class, wit, and if you're not careful you may even learn how to make people not instantly hate you every time you open your mouth." Flynn pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. "But for starters we can work on the fact that being a captain on land doesn't even remotely make you captain on a ship."

Captain Herrmann laughed. "You really think you are going to run this ship?"

"Do you really think you can stop me?"

Captain Herrmann's laughter died in his throat.

"Listen here, Rider. I've been generous up till now. You got your crew, you got your terms, but this is where the charity stops. You don't get the luxury of telling me what I can and cannot do."

The captain's mouth pressed tight and his eyes narrowed. Flynn heard Maximus shift behind him and Flynn wondered how many times the dutiful guard had killed him in his mind since meeting him. It couldn't be more than the amount of times Flynn had imaged killing him.

"And you don't get the luxury of playing like you know what the hell you are doing on a ship." Rider pushed down his contempt for this man's arrogance and focused on the ridiculousness of the situation. "Those men out there are sailor. They were born and bred for the sea and you and your men don't even know how to trim the sails. If word gets out that you are calling yourself the captain of this ship, all hell will break loose. What happened on dock is just a preview."

"You are not suggesting that I just let you run this ship with no input, are you?" Captain Herrmann crossed his arms over his metal chest.

"That is exactly what I am suggesting."

The air crackled. Outside the cabin the sound of men moving about could be heard mixed with muffled calls, but it all seemed far away. All that existed here was the moment in this space.

"Here's the deal." Flynn spread his hands on the table in front of him. "You captain the ship and the crew revolts. Most everyone will be killed or injured, most definitely including you and me because, let's face it, absolutely no one likes you, and your men already have a target on my back. Then the ship is either taken over by the remainder of a crew who has a clue what they are doing or by the halfwits you brought on board to take up space and eat out rations. Point being it won't matter much who takes over the ship either way since we will be dead a rotting."

"That is just one scenario of many."

"But it is the one that will come true."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Same way I know when it is going to storm and why I don't need charts when I have the stars. Same way I know you've been seasick this morning and how it won't be the last time. I've spent my life on a boat with men just like these. You don't do that without picking up a thing or two."

Captain Herrmann considered this for a good while. He looked at Maximus and then Flynn, and then back at Maximus again. The room was stuffy with thick air and words hanging like strange fruit around their heads. Flynn felt sweat break out on his back, but he forced himself not the fidget. Silence and stupidity made him anxious.

Then with a deep sigh, Captain Herrmann surrendered, but not without terms: "Fine, but you report to me. Every decision, every choice, you will bring it to me for consideration. I will not have the king's mission compromised by your foolhardy decisions."

Flynn bristled. "I don't run my ship by committee."

"It isn't your ship."

"It is now, and until you can learn how to sail this ship better than I can, it is going to stay that way."

"But the king – "Flynn could see Captain Herrmann struggling to hold onto any thread of authority and failing.

"If the king wanted you to sail this ship – you would be sailing this ship and I'd be long gone." These never ending grasps at power were exhausting and that headache Flynn had felt coming on earlier now pulsed behind his eyes. "I am no more thrilled at this arrangement than you are, believe you me."

The honesty in Flynn's last sentence felt strange on his tongue but he wouldn't deny its truth. This whole experience was shaping up to be an epic nightmare and Flynn wanted no part of it, but there was no escape route. They were in this for keeps and if the last twenty-four hours were foreshadowing to the rest of the trip – he'd rather hang. The cabin was silent, no one quite sure what to do when they weren't at each other's throats.

Captain Herrmann coughed.

"What – what would you suggest we do to control this crew?" His moustache twitched in the uncomfortable acquiescence.

Flynn looked at him, eyebrow cocked, not sure he was hearing what he was hearing.

"You and your men can start by dropping your guardsmen titles. Ranks work differently here and it is just confusing if you are captain and so am I." Flynn said and pressed forward before Captain Herrmann could balk. "You can also make sure that your men stay out of our way so we can do our jobs. The more efficiently we sail, the sooner we get back to the Corona, and to your precious king." Flynn shifted in his chair, anticipating Captain Herrmann to cut him off, but he didn't. He listened, stone faced, but he listened. "Also – I report to no one. You can have me followed by Mr. Over-Achievement here, and he can report back to you, but I am not one of your men you can have jump through hoops. I don't do tricks."

Flynn expected a counter offer, a rebuttal, as they had come so often before, but none came. The leader of the guardsmen stood stoic and solemn. That made Flynn almost more uncomfortable than anything that had come before. Then with a deep breath, he spoke,

"So we drop our titles and then what? Do we make-up names as unbelievable as some of the men you deemed worthy to board this ship?" Captain Herrmann asked. "Geppetto? Scar? I've never heard such ridiculous names in my life."

"This is a ship, not a masquerade ball. These names aren't costume. They are a signature." Flynn didn't expect a military man to understand the complexity of pirate names. "Now if you don't mind gentlemen, if everything is settled here, I'd like some time alone in _my_ quarters."

Any peace that may have been earned in the moments before was lost in that moment.

"Listen here Rider, I am still a leader on this ship, title or not, and these quarters are mine as much as they are yours." Captain Herrmann wagged his finger at Flynn like he was scolding a child.

"If I sleep on deck or below with my men, they will think this is some grand puppet master scheme and both of our sorry asses will end up on desert island faster than you can spell 'marooned'." Flynn pushed back from the table and stood.

"And if I sleep on deck with my men I run the risk of losing any respect or authority with this rag tag bunch of ruffians you parade as sailors and my own men." Captain Herrmann planted his palms flat on the table across from Flynn and stared him down.

"I'm and the actual captain of this ship." Flynn planted his in mirror to Captain Herrmann's.

"I am here on authority of the king himself."

"Then why don't you just go ask the king himself who gets to stay in this cabin?"

"You could both stay here." The third voice caught the battling men off guard.

The young lieutenant had been quiet during the discussion until now and it was easy to forget about him. Even Flynn who had been so aware of him and his every annoying facet had lost track of him in the depths of this debacle. Both of the battling men whipped their faces to look at him.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?" Captain Herrmann voice held honest surprise.

"You could both stay in here. You can tell the men and pirates it is to assure Rider doesn't attempt any great grievance by orders of the crown. The room is spacious enough. You'll both be comfortable." Maximus spoke without shrinking under the scrutiny of his commanding officer, and Flynn thought it was one of the stupidest ideas he'd ever heard.

"That could work." Captain Herrmann said and Flynn's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Excuse me? You think bunking together like some great duo is the way to go?" Flynn laughed.

"Do you have a better idea?" Captain Herrmann challenged, and to be honest, Flynn didn't.

But Flynn wasn't honest. He was awesome, and if he wasn't going to have his way, he was going to have his fun.

"Well I don't know about you, Herrmann, but I have a reputation with the ladies to uphold and shacking up with the likes of you will do nothing to help me while in port."

Flynn may have imagined it, but it looked like the captain's face turned a shade of pink at his comment. From anger or from embarrassment, it wasn't important. All that mattered was the funny way his moustache quivered.

"Of course your deviant mind would find a lewd excuse for such a convenient and innocent arrangement. From now on I expect you to keep the exploits of your bedroom to yourself." Captain Herrmann said.

"Suit yourself, but you both could serve to learn a thing or two from my experience." Flynn raised one eyebrow and Captain Herrmann face soured.

"And I would say you would be well served to learn a thing or two from ours." Captain Herrmann drew in a deep breath and puffed out his chest like if he was big enough it would be less painful to yield to this pirate.

"Thanks, but I like me just the way I am." Flynn stepped back from the table and brushed imaginary wrinkles from his vest. "I'd love to stay all day and chat, but I have a ship to run."

"Don't think I won't be watching your every move."

"I wouldn't have it any other way and I promise I'll try to put on a good show." Flynn gave Captain Herrmann a cheeky salute.

With that, Flynn spun on one heel and marched to the door.

Maximus tripped him as he crossed the threshold and he heard Stabbington laugh at his graceless exit from the deck below.

Bunking with Captain Herrmann was the absolute least of his problems.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry this update took a bit to get up. My "real life" keeps getting in the way.

Thanks to all of my guest/anon reviewers on the last chapter, and to answer the question on _everyone's _mind - Yes. Yes, Rapunzel is coming soon and I promise she is worth the wait.

**fanfiction twitter**: ravenswrite


End file.
